A Gallimaufry of Guns
by SnowPrincessMossy
Summary: Oneshot Collection. Multiple pairings. Mostly RoyAi and EdWin and HavocxRebecca. Also Team Mustang family!shenanigans. Latest Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of the Promised Day, General Roy Mustang forgets to request the transfer of his most trusted subordinate. Or does he?
1. I Don't Want You As My Aide

**I own nothing.**

 **In the aftermath of the Promised Day, General Roy Mustang forgets to request the transfer of his most trusted subordinate. Or does he?**

* * *

Captain Riza Hawkeye sighed heavily as she slumped against the wall next to her friend, also newly promoted, Captain Rebecca Catalina.

The new Fuhrer had organized a ball to celebrate all the promotions and transfers in the wake of the Promised Day.

Rebecca handed her friend a glass of champagne, which Riza accepted gratefully.

"I still can't believe him," Rebecca said angrily.

"Mm," Riza grunted in response, taking a generous swig of her champagne and eyeing the crowd.

Rebecca watched her friend's eyes shift over the crowd and sighed.

"You're still looking for him? Really? After this morning?"

* * *

 **-That Morning-**

"Captain, would you mind delivering these to General Mustang for me?" Fuhrer Grumman asked, the hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Captain Hawkeye nodded, "Of course, sir, right away."

Things had been busy cleaning up the messes caused by the events of the Promised Day and many promotions and transfers were in order, and had slowly been taken care of, but Riza herself had yet to receive her own transfer orders to return her to duty as General Mustang's personal aide, rather than aide to the Fuhrer. Though she didn't mind working under Grumman too much, and it was obvious she was no longer a prisoner, but she was still anxious to return to Mustang's side.

Hawkeye took the papers from Fuhrer Grumman and headed out of the room and down the hall to General Mustang's office. Glancing briefly at the top paper, she saw that it was a notice that his transfer request had been approved and he would be leaving to Ishval within the week to head the rebuilding program.

Attached to the top sheet were several packets that Hawkeye recognized as transfer orders for those that General Mustang had requested join his team in Ishval. Curiosity piqued and she leafed through the packets, looking for the one she expected to have her name on.

Rebecca Catalina.

Kain Fuery.

Heymans Breda.

Maria Ross.

Vato Falman.

Not Jean Havoc, he would not be returning to the military at least until he was done with physical therapy.

Not her. Maybe it had gotten lost? Maybe the Fuhrer would have it waiting for her when she got back to her office? No, Grumman liked the commanding officer to distribute transfer orders like these, where the transfer was more or less voluntary.

Hawkeye walked faster, her mind spinning with possibilities. But all she could think of by the time she reached Mustang's office door was that he hadn't requested her transfer to his team. The thought made anger and disappointment rise, hot and damp in her chest.

"Captain," General Mustang said with a smile when she entered his office.

"General," She responded, "Papers from the Fuhrer for you, Sir."

"Thank you, Captain," He said, taking the papers from her outstretched hand and scanning the top sheet, "I've been waiting for these."

She watched as he flipped through the transfer order packets, nodding to himself as he read each name.

"Sir," Hawkeye said after a moment.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" He asked.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe you are missing a transfer order."

His eyes flashed with worry and he flipped through the packets again quickly.

"No, Captain," He said when he was done, "I have all the transfer orders I requested."

"But Sir," She began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"You are still recovering, Captain," He said, his eyes flicking to the scar on her neck. Healed thanks to Mei, but as it was only a month after the injury she still suffered effects from the loss of blood. Her stubbornness had taken her back to work too early, but she was strictly on light duty until her health improved.

When his eyes met hers again, they pleaded her to understand. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not transferring her with the rest of his team.

"Very well then, Sir," Her voice was tight and her words clipped. Her eyes flashed anger and disappointment and promised him that this conversation, though put on hold for now, was far from over.

With that, she turned on her heel and strode from the office.

* * *

"I have to talk to him, Rebecca," Riza stated, as her eyes found the man she was looking for. He was speaking with General Olivier Armstrong in the front of the room.

"Please yell at him for being an idiot," Rebecca sighed, knowing there was no talking her friend out of this, "For me?"

Riza smiled at her friend, "You can do your own yelling at him when I'm done."

Rebecca nodded, "Deal."

Riza slipped through the crowd towards the front of the room, heading for General Roy Mustang.

"Captain!" He greeted jovially as she approached him.

"A word, General Mustang," Hawkeye asked shortly, indicating the door to the courtyard with a flick of her eyes to tell him she meant to continue their conversation from earlier, with no lame excuses this time. "If I may steal him, General Armstrong?"

"He's all yours, Captain," Olivier said.

Riza nodded her thanks and headed for the door to the courtyard, confident that Roy would follow her outside.

Once she had found a spot in the courtyard that was satisfactorily quiet, she turned to face him.

"If this is about this morning, Captain, you know I wouldn't leave you here without good reason," Roy said.

"We talked about this, General," Riza sighed, "You said you would continue to allow me to keep the promise I made you."

"I did." Roy said slowly.

"How am I supposed to do that from Central?" Riza cried, "We had a plan, General. You were going to transfer me with you to Ishval to help with the rebuild."

"I was." Roy responded.

"Then why didn't you?" She asked, beginning to get annoyed with his short, slow responses, "And don't you dare say it's because of my injuries. I'm perfectly capable of being your aide, even on light duty."

Roy sighed heavily and looked into his Captain's eyes, which were full of anger and disappointment. He knew that she wouldn't take any excuse he could come up with, so he had to settle with telling her the truth.

"I didn't request your transfer," He began, "Because I don't want you as my aide."

The words struck her like a slap to the face. Her mind buzzed and tears sprang to her eyes. She was so shocked that she didn't hear his next words.

"I want you there as my wife," Roy finished, so caught up in his own nerves that he didn't notice her distress at his previous statement.

She stood, blinking at the sky to try to contain the tears. _How could he not want me as his aide? We made a promise!_

"Riza?" Roy asked shyly after a moment. "Riza, did you hear me?"

She tilted her head down to look at him where he knelt on the ground and he watched as emotions swam through her eyes too fast for him to name each one. Then those eyes of hers locked on the ring in the little black box in his hand.

"What?" She breathed.

"I said I don't want you as my aide, because I want you as my wife," Roy repeated quietly, "If you'll have me. You can still keep your promise as my wife, right?"

"Sir, I-" she shook her head, "Have you thought this through?"

"Yes," He nodded, "We can't have a relationship with you under my command, so General Armstrong agreed to transfer you to her team and send you with Lieutenant Colonel Miles to Ishval to help patch up relations between Amestris and the Ishvalans. And when we're done in Ishval she will see to it that you are transferred to wherever I am, rather than to Briggs with Miles."

"You're sure about this?" Riza asked, her mind reeling.

"Yes," Roy said, "Very sure."

Riza let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as relief flooded her. She would still be with her General. Her Roy. And she wouldn't have to leave the military either.

"But if you don't want to then I suppos-mmf!"

He was cut off as Riza threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips against his.

"Is that a yes?" Roy asked when she pulled away.

"Stupid man," She breathed, "Of course I'll marry you."

He grinned and pulled her close for another kiss.


	2. Black eye

**Most of these oneshots will be from prompts from my master list of prompts found mostly from Tumblr or 100 themes lists that I find online. This one is from Tumblr.**

 **45\. How exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?**

* * *

It was lunchtime, and so Colonel Mustang's office was quiet save for muffled grumbling that could be heard coming from the inner office where Colonel Mustang himself sat, working through lunch yet again to catch up on paperwork.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye sat in the outer office, quietly working on her own paperwork, though hers was not late she found it better not to leave her colonel alone in the office. And besides, she was not alone in the outer office today. Edward Elric sat in one of the empty desks, grumbling and griping about a report he had to write for the colonel. Alphonse Elric had kindly offered to go to the mess hall with the rest of the team and bring food back to the office for the colonel, the lieutenant, and his older brother.

Lieutenant Hawkeye looked up from the paper she was reading over as a pen skidded across her desk.

Ed suddenly became very interested in the desk drawer where pens were kept.

Hawkeye shook her head and set the pen aside as she resumed reading over her paperwork.

She heard Edward's desk drawer slide shut and the scratching of pen against paper as he continued writing his report.

Ed sighed heavily and another pen flew towards the lieutenant's desk, bouncing off the side and rolling onto the floor.

This time when Hawkeye looked up, her eyes caught Ed's and he blushed slightly as he ducked his head down quickly, busying himself in finding another pen.

Once again both Ed and Hawkeye returned to their work.

Moments later, there was a solid sounding thump and a strangled noise of pain came from Ed's mouth.

Hawkeye looked up quickly to see Edward holding both hands over his right eye.

"Edward?" Hawkeye asked, "Are you alright?"

Ed looked up at her, both hands still clasped over his right eye, his left eye glassy.

"Yes," Ed replied quickly, but his voice squeaked and betrayed his pain.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow as she stood up to walk over to Ed's desk, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ed squeaked, "Really, Lieutenant, I'm fine."

Hawkeye crossed her arms, looking down at Ed.

Ed dropped his head, "None of the pens in this desk work."

"So you stabbed yourself in the eye with one?" Hawkeye asked.

Ed stiffened, "Err…"

Hawkeye knelt down in front of Ed so he could not avoid her gaze.

"Ed," Hawkeye chided, beckoning for him to remove his hands from his eye so she could see.

Ed grumbled and removed his eyes slowly from his eye, wincing at the light.

Hawkeye sighed, the eye was red and swollen partially shut.

"Is it bad?" Ed asked quietly, suddenly worried.

"You're going to have a nice black eye for a while," Hawkeye replied, "How did you manage that with a pen?"

"I was just trying to make the pen work and ended up punching myself in the face," Ed admitted quietly, his face flushing.

"Hey, I brought…" Al's sentence trailed off as he took in the scene before him.

Ed froze, his good eye begging Lieutenant Hawkeye to please not tell his baby brother that he punched himself in the face with his automail hand and gave himself a nice shiner.

"Thank you for bringing us lunch, Alphonse," Hawkeye said, standing and turning to face the younger boy, "You can set it on my desk, I'll get Edward some ice for his eye and then take the Colonel's lunch in to him."

"It's no problem, Lieutenant," Al said brightly, moving to set the brown paper bag of lunch on her desk, though he kept one curious eye on his older brother.

Hawkeye couldn't help but grin when she heard Alphonse's voice through the door as it closed behind her.

"Really Brother? How did you hurt yourself while doing paperwork?!"


	3. The Silence After the Storm

**81.** **There is a common saying about the calm before the storm, but nobody talks about the deafening silence after the storm hits.**

The slump of her shoulders as they loaded him into the ambulance was almost imperceptible, but Al saw it. His years of sleepless nights and worry for his brother had taught him to notice little movements that went unnoticed by others.

Her pace was brisk as she walked away from the ambulance towards the car he had been driving earlier in the night.

Al followed, sliding into the backseat with as much grace as he could manage in his damaged armor.

He noticed her hands shaking as she put the key in the ignition, missing the keyhole twice due to her trembling.

"Lieutenant," Al said softly, reaching forward and placing a hand on her shoulder gently.

"Alphonse?" She turned in her seat to meet his eyes.

What he saw in her eyes changed the words that echoed from his body.

"It's not your fault."

Her eyes grew wider ever so slightly, something in the back of her mind clicking, puzzle pieces falling into place. She dropped her gaze to her lap and sighed, letting her body slump slightly in something like defeat.

Al noticed that too. Those same puzzle pieces had dropped into place in his mind less than an hour ago. Now that he knew he was surprised it had taken him this long to notice, and he felt a little guilty about it.

"I should have been there," She murmured finally.

"And what would you have done?" Al asked softly, memories of words spat at his brother by her Colonel echoing in his ears. "How could you have stopped Lust? You saw for yourself, bullets are useless against the homunculi."

She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and her body stiffened.

"I made a promise, Alphonse," She said, her voice so quiet he could hardly hear it, "A long time ago. I promised to protect him. And tonight, I let him down. I didn't protect him."

"There was nothing you could have done," Al said, "Nothing anyone could have done to change what happened tonight. We did the best we could with the information we had, and that's all that we can do."

She sighed heavily and raised her head to meet his gaze, a small, rueful smile on her face.

"You're right, Alphonse," She said, "We can't get caught in what ifs."

Al nodded, with a faint screech of metal against metal.

"We should go get you patched up and back to Winry," Hawkeye said, "She'll be worried about you."

If Al could have smiled at her he would have.

"And then you can go to the hospital and make sure that he's ok."

She shifted in her seat and turned the key in the ignition.

Al sat back in his seat as the car rumbled it's way down the street.

They drove in comfortable silence through the darkened streets of Central.

Hawkeye parked the car in an alley and shut it off.

Al wasn't sure where they were, but Hawkeye seemed to recognize the area so he went to get out of the car when he was stopped by her soft voice.

"Thank you, Alphonse."

And then she stepped out of the car, and her shoulders snapped straight and square and she walked towards an apartment complex across the street and the moment was over.

Al hurried after her, not sure where they were going or what would happen when Winry and eventually Ed saw him, but knowing that he had helped the lieutenant feel a little better about what happened tonight. He helped her the same way that the colonel helped his brother, and the say that she so often helped him.

Sometimes people just needed to hear the words they said over and over again come from the mouth of someone else to be able to hear them properly. And Al was glad that he could do that for the people he cared for.


	4. Who handles your heart

**15\. You don't get to choose who handles your heart. There are simply people who were born with it in their teeth. When you meet them, it is best to build a bomb shelter.**

* * *

When she first met him, Riza Hawkeye thought that Roy Mustang was just another one of her father's silly apprentices who would pay her no mind, too focused on trying to learn the secrets of flame alchemy that she knew her father would never disclose to them to bother with wasting time on Berthold Hawkeye's quiet, shadow of a daughter. Within two hours, he had proved her wrong, setting up his study station on the kitchen table and watching her over the spine of an ancient alchemy tome as she prepared lunch.

As the days and weeks drew on, his dark eyes and open face pulled her into far more easy conversations than she had ever intended in partaking in. She found herself slipping notes into his textbooks to help him when he was struggling with a particularly hard task that her father had set him.

Weeks quickly became months and she began to hope that maybe Roy Mustang was lucky apprentice number three who would be able to stay to complete his training.

Months became years and their relationship grew. The easy friendship had something of a fire to it, and she found herself looking forward to the days when her father was out of the house, leaving the two teens alone together. On those days, their textbooks were often forgotten in favor of more physical studies of each other.

Her heart sank when he told her he was leaving for the academy, and she felt a physical pain as the train pulled away from the station, carrying him away from her for an indeterminate amount of time. She let herself hope that it wouldn't be forever.

Two years later her heart skipped a beat when he showed up on the doorstep dressed in military blue. They had exchanged letters over that two years but it was not enough and her body longed for those days when they would get lost in exploring each other with their fingertips and tongues. But this would not be a visit for that kind of exploration, her father had made sure of that.

He left two weeks later with the secrets of flame alchemy safely tucked into his head. As she saw him off at the train station she felt her heart rip out of her chest as he waved through the window until the train was just a speck in the distance. This time they would not exchange letters. They both agreed that it was best if they were not connected, to protect her from greedy alchemists who wanted the secrets engraved on her back.

She returned to the house, which felt even more empty now that she was its only occupant, and found herself on his bed, wrapped in his blankets and hoping that his fading scent on the sheets would somehow repair the hole in her chest.

The next morning, she boarded an early train bound for the military academy just outside East City. She knew he would not be there, he would be at the facility designated for state alchemy exams in Central, but it was close enough that she felt she could breathe again.

When she saw him through the sight of her sniper rifle, her heart raced, pumping blood through her limbs and forcing feeling back into her body that had become numb to the horrors of war. One glance at his tired, war hardened face and suddenly she could feel again and it hurt so much she could scarcely breathe.

She sat far from the fire that night as she ate her dinner, her veins were already on fire from the simple knowledge that he was here. Of course he was here. They wouldn't leave the Flame Alchemist sitting behind a desk when there was a war to be won. But the alchemists had been shipped in six days ago and she hadn't seen him in that time, and so she had held out some hope, ridiculous though it was, that he had been left behind in Central for some reason or another. No such luck.

He found her on the outskirts of camp hours later. She hadn't even tried to sleep, it had been hard enough before but now that he was here and she could suddenly feel the rough and bumpy cots and the bitter cold of the night despite the fire of her blood she knew that sleep would be impossible. Of course, she had to have known that he wouldn't be sleeping either.

However, just as she was not the girl he had left at the train station two years ago, the man that found her on the edge of camp was not the same man who had blushed as he admitted his dreams for the future as they stood in front of her father's fresh grave. He was a hollow shell of the man he had once been, but she could see that there was still a fire burning deep within him, not quite extinguished by the blood that soaked the land.

They didn't speak much during their time in Ishval. There was no need to speak and their voices were as dry as the desert sand which made talking harder anyway. There was many a night she would find him standing at the flap of her tent, or she would find herself standing at his, and they would wake in the morning, a tangle of limbs in the same cot.

After the war, she watched, waiting patiently for the spark she knew still existed in his chest to be ignited once again into a raging fire. She spent many desperate nights listening to his whispered apologies for using her father's alchemy to bring such devastation to an innocent people. She listened to his tattered voice and pulled him close to her in an attempt to fill the emptiness inside them both.

It was almost a year later when the fire inside him ignited again, stoked by the eyes of a boy in a wheelchair with eyes like liquid gold.

His ambition came back and suddenly his goals seemed more attainable, meaning that the nights spent wrapped around each other became more dangerous to them both. His goals had to be more important, and so she tried to limit their time together outside of work, but when he showed up at her doorstep on rainy nights and asked to stay with a hunted look in his eyes and her heart wiggling between his teeth, she found it impossible to turn him away.

As years passed he needed more of her protection, and though he fought it she held steadfast that she would keep her promise to him even if it killed her. And she knew that if she ever had to follow through with it, she knew that she would not survive.

When that day finally came, the day that she had dreaded for years since the death of Maes Hughes, for she was smart and knew his blind anger over the death of his best friend would be what pushed him over the edge, her hands shook as she held the barrel of her gun to his head. She wondered for a moment if she could angle the shot just right to somehow shoot him and also put the bullet through her own heart that had long ago taken up residence in his mouth.

When she admitted that she would not continue to live without him, she felt the hole inside her chest twist as he gnashed his teeth, grinding her heart into torn and tattered pieces. When he finally turned to face her his eyes were no longer wild and empty, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and sank to the floor.

Later, when she woke covered in blood and dizzy with exhaustion to see his face flood with relief, she felt something in her chest swell. It felt like a heart, but she knew it couldn't be hers, for it was much too big to fit comfortably within her chest and she could still see pieces of pulsing flesh slide around his tongue as he smiled at her. No, her heart was knitting itself together again after it had been ravaged earlier today by his grinding teeth and righteous anger, so it must be his heart that she felt swell in her chest as he looked at her with the softest eyes in this moment she wished could last forever.


End file.
